


The Invisible Woman

by Jacqualine



Category: Anne of Green Gables - L. M. Montgomery, Anne with an E (TV)
Genre: F/M, Marilla is curious
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-06-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:48:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24850312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jacqualine/pseuds/Jacqualine
Summary: Marilla has feelings she hasn't experienced in years.
Comments: 14
Kudos: 27





	The Invisible Woman

**Author's Note:**

> It's been stuck in my head for months, I had to get it out. 
> 
> I am fascinated by Marilla's life, by the loneliness she must have felt and I wondered if she was ever bitter, or curious about the lack of physical affection. 
> 
> I don't speak french, I used google translate to get all French appearing in the story. Translations are at the end of the story

She stared in the mirror, the lines in her forehead were deeper, more crows feet around her eyes, it always seemed like her mouth was turned down now. The fullness of youth completely gone from her face, cheeks sunken, eyes slightly hollowed. Silver streaks threaded her hair, once so full and lustrous, now thinner and dull, the shine gone. She had never been considered beautiful, but she had been called handsome, told that her eyes flashed when she smiled. She was old, no denying that now. She was past the point that any man eyed her appreciatively, any attention she received was out of polite manners and never a romantic interest. Not that there had been a lot of interest, just the one, a silly Blythe boy heart filled with pure, honest intentions, his belly filled with the lust of youthful adventure. She had responsibilities, she couldn't go, she let her fear of living trap her to a life of loneliness. 

"I'm going to need to hire a couple of hands, to get us through harvest." Matthew said one day, he was finishing up his morning coffee.

"I think that is a sensible idea." Marilla agreed, washing the dishes at the sink. Matthew was younger than Marilla but he had a bad heart, Marilla had been pestering him to take on someone full time, but he had been resistant. There had even been talk between the two about adopting a boy from the mainland, they hadn't done more than talk, but Marilla was going to try again once the harvest was done.

Four days later he told her that he had hired an uncle and nephew to help them with harvest. They were from the Acadian settlement on the other side of the community. It wasn't ideal, Rachel Lynde would have a fit at the idea of them working at Green Gables, but there weren't many options for them. The men would be there the next morning.

She was up at her regular time, serving Matthew a breakfast of oatmeal and fried ham. She put some scones she had made the day before close to the fire to warm up, she would provide the men with breakfast and lunch while they were working for Green Gables. A knock on the back door announced they had arrived, Matthew greeted them and called Marilla to the door.

"This is my sister Marilla." He introduced her. "This is Gideon Baynard and his nephew Jerry." Marilla took in the small boy who looked about ten or eleven, he had removed his hat, his dark hair was too long and hung in his large dark eyes. His clothes were worn and she could see many places were patched and too small for him, but they were clean, as was the boy. The boy's uncle was tall and lanky, he had dark hair and eyes too, his flashed with something that made Marilla's mouth tighten, she didn't know what it was. He was also wearing worn clothing, and had removed his hat to greet her, nodding to her. His hair was long as well but he swept it back off his face with a hand before putting his cap back on his head he looked to be at least thirty to Marilla perhaps a few years older. 

"Bonjour Madame." Jerry greeted her, she knew he should have greeted her as mademoiselle, as she was still an unmarried woman.

"Miss Cuthbert will do just fine. You boys take a seat out here and I will bring you some coffee and scones." She instructed them and went back into the house, bringing a plate of scones, a jar of rhubarb jam, two mugs and a pot of coffee. 

"Jerry if you don't drink coffee, I can get you a glass of water or milk."

"It is not necessary Mad...Miss Cuthbert. I enjoy coffee." He told her, grinning up with a mouthful of scone and jam. 

"We'll start in the east field Marilla." Matthew informed her, knowing she would join them later, bringing some water and helping for a bit before preparing lunch for them. 

When she came back out to collect the dishes and jar of jam, Gideon tipped his hat and said "Merci Miss Marilla."

"Miss Cuthbert, please." She informed him haughtily. The wee lad had better manners than this full grown man. 

"Miss Cuthbert." He repeated and nodded, turning to follow Matthew and Jerry to the east field.

Matthew had planted his crops so that they would stagger the harvest, it usually took about two weeks to harvest each field, if it was just himself and Marilla, with the addition of two more workers, one of them a strong, healthy man in his prime, work went faster and the east field was finished in a week. 

She was going out to join them, one scorching hot afternoon, bringing some fresh water, and a few apples as a snack. She could hear Jerry singing in French as he often did while working. He was an enthusiastic worker and followed orders without hesitation, Matthew had become quite fond of the lad. Suddenly she stopped dead in her tracks, Gideon was working with his back to her, and he didn't have a shirt on. His wide shoulders and muscled back was shimmering with sweat, a few small leaves sticking to him. She couldn't recall the last time she saw a man in any state of undress, perhaps when she had spied on the boys swimming many years ago. She was a young girl, hiding in the bushes and giggling into her hand with Rachael, while John Blythe, Thomas Lynde, and Chester Pye swam in the creek close to the schoolhouse. They had been boys, barely older than Jerry was now, they were still scrawny, possessing stick thin arms and were practically pigeon chested. Gideon was a man, he turned when Jerry stopped singing, noticing Marilla standing there her face beet red with a blush. If she thought his back was muscular, she had to purposely tighten her mouth to keep it from falling open. She wasn't aware men had muscles on their stomachs, she had seen thick biceps, men curling their arms to make the muscles bulge to impress a woman, but he had muscles on his chest, and trailing down his stomach. He had a smattering of hair on his chest, the same colour as the hair on his head and the unshaven hair on his face. She was following the trail of hair that disappeared into his trousers, low on his waist with her eyes when she noticed he was talking. 

"Pardon, Miss Cuthbert. It is hot, we were not expecting you so soon." He grabbed his shirt and started to put it on. 

"No harm done, Gideon." She replied, surprised at how even her voice sounded when her heart was beating like crazy. "I suppose I will have to start singing some of Jerry's songs to announce myself.

"I can teach you Miss Cuthbert." Jerry said brightly.

Later that night, long after they went home, and Matthew had gone to bed, Marilla was reading in bed, when the image of Gideon without his shirt on came rushing back. At first she tried to push it from her mind and return to her novel, after several attempt to read the same sentence and still not knowing what it said, she put her book mark between the pages and closed it up, putting it on the table and turning off the lamp. She allowed herself to lay there and think about the way Gideon had looked and how it had made her feel. 

She was no stranger to desire, hadn't she felt her stomach churn with excitement when John Blythe had kissed her, felt the dull ache between her thigh when he had pressed her up against the barn wall, and kissed her neck? She sometimes still felt that throbbing, almost like an echo, or a memory left behind from the young girl she once was. Never had she felt such a sharp ache between her legs, she had felt moisture there too, felt it now from just the memory of Gideon's body. Rachel had told her about it once, when they had a couple of glasses of dandelion wine, Rachel was still newly married and desperate to talk about such things with a trusted friend. She knew that the slickness made marital relations easier and more enjoyable. 

She had considered what it must be like, the marriage bed, she knew the mechanics of it, but try as she might she couldn't picture how it really worked, and her brain refused to believe it could actually be enjoyable for a wife, as well as the husband. Rachel sure seemed to like it, though.

One time Marilla had walked over to the Lynde's home, intent on delivering a blueberry pie, in honour of Rachel's birthday...she had spied the couple kissing passionately through the kitchen window, Rachel against the table, Thomas against her,his hand on her breast, Rachel's hand caressing him through his trousers. Marilla was already old by then, just past forty, too old to be courted and already confirmed a spinster by all those knew her, it was that moment that she came to accept that she would never know a man. She had felt anger for the first time, angry at her brother Michael for dying, for leaving her alone with Matthew, angry at Matthew for being unable to live without her, angry that he hid in the barn most of his days, angry that John Blythe had left Avonlea, off to adventures around the world, angry that she knew he was married out west. Angry at herself for just accepting it all.

In her bed in the dark room she felt that anger bubble again, angry that as she approached 65 years of life she still felt so lonely.

Perhaps because of the reaction to him, she became more sharp with him. Always correcting his broken English, giving him withering looks when he tracked mud on the porch by her door, once when he dropped his plate and a small chip appeared, he tried to apologize, a rush of french and english words tumbling together to beg her forgiveness.

"This is why we don't serve the help with the good china." She had told him coldy, biting back her own apology when she saw him flinch at her words.

"Marilla, the wagon has broken an axle, Jerry says his father may have another one. We're going to ride over to their place and see." Matthew told her her in the kitchen, she could see Jerry leading their horse out of the barn, saddled up and ready for them.

"We need that wagon..." She knew how much they relied on that wagon for transporting their produce.

"I know; if the Baynard's haven't got one, I'll have to ride out to Carmody. Gideon is going to keep working, give him my share of lunch, save the boy's for later, he won't say it but I think they are getting most of their meals here." She watched Matthew climb up on the horse and help Jerry up behind him, and as they set off down the road. 

The temptation was too much. It wasn't anywhere close to lunch time, but she filled a pitcher with fresh water and grabbed a few plum puffs she had just prepared, she hadn't intended to serve them to Gideon or Jerry, but since Gideon was doing all the work by himself it seemed fair to give him a reward. 

She could hear him before she saw him, the sound of the corn stalks breaking, led her toward him, she couldn't say why, but she hid among the corn when she saw he was again working without his shirt, she noticed he was quite tanned, he took his shirt off a lot in the sun, part of her had suspected him to be lazy and ease off on his work without Matthew there, but he was working as hard as she had ever observed. She noticed how his pants molded to his thighs as he crouched to work, and that drew her eye to his bottom. She felt a sudden rush of wetness to her privates and bit her lip to keep from gasping. She must have shifted or brushed against the corn because he spun around in his crouched position still.

"Qui est là?" He said, a frown maring his features. "Marilla...Miss Cuthbert?"

"It's me. Sorry to have spooked you. I seemed to have gotten turned around in the corn." She fumbled for an excuse.

"I was not thinking you would be here so early." He stood to his full height, as she approached. She was acutely aware he was still not wearing a shirt. A gentleman would have moved immediately to cover himself in mixed company. 

"Matthew told me about the axle, I figured you deserved a treat for working extra hard, and all by yourself too." She held up the basket and pitcher as if to assure not only him, but herself, that she had a valid reason for being out here, alone in the fields with him.

"Je ne peux pas vous remercier assez." He smiled, flashing a grin at her. She noticed that he would let his beard grow for a few days before he shaved it all off, she much preferred him with the facial hair. His eyebrows were straight and as black as his hair, framing his deep brown eyes, eyes that always seemed to be asking her a question, she didn't know the answer to. She was finding it increasingly difficult not to look down at his chest and stomach, she could just see his dark nipples in her line of vision. 

She poured him a cup of water and handed it to him, their fingers grazing each other as he took it. "I've made some plum puffs." She blurted out. At the shake of his head to indicate he didn't know what that was. "A pastry with some preserves and cream." She reached into the basket and pulled one out to show him.

"It looks good." He smiled at the little treat. "My hands are too dirty." He held up his dirt covered hands, she could see the grime covering them, but she had seen him eat with dirtier hands on previous occasions. "Please help."

"I think I have a handkerchief..."

"No need to make your hankie dirty. You put?" He pointed at his mouth and she realised he wanted her to feed him. Her instinct was to slap his face for the audacious impropriety, she was a good Christian woman and to ask such a thing of her was wicked. Her body had other thoughts though, she watched in horror, and excitement, as her hand rose and moved the puff toward his mouth, he stared at her face as she did so, opening his mouth at the last second and moving forward to take most of it in one bite, leaving just a few flakes of pastry and cream on her finger and thumb. He closed his eyes and chewed, moaning at the taste, she felt the throbbing ache intensify and she nearly moaned when his tongue snaked out of his mouth to lick the remaining pastry off of his lips.

"I should not waste so much deliciousness." He told her, before taking her wrist in his dirty hand and bringing it toward his mouth again, his tongue running along her thumb to capture the last of the cream there. She couldn't speak, move or react, she was trembling, shivers were running from her thumb to her privates, and the sensation was too much for her. When he put her whole finger in his mouth and sucked, she did moan, that suction was timed perfectly with the jolts of that pleasurable feeling right at her centre. Her knees almost gave out, they did buckle a bit, but he grabbed her around the waist with the hand and arm still holding the mug of water. She suspected that it's contents would be on the back of her skirt somewhere but she didn't care, couldn't care, because he was holding her, his hand low on her back, the other hand still had her wrist, and her chest was firmly pressed against his nude chest. His scent was strong, he had been working in the sun all morning, but it wasn't unappealing to her. She felt her nipples harden under her blouse, she wished that she had foregone her corset, so that she could feel them against his chest. 

"Suis-je trop en avant?" He said in French, she shook her head, unable to understand what he was saying, but felt like her body knew what he was saying. "Puis-je vous goûter ensuite?" He whispered just before his mouth lowered to hers.

She should definitely slap him for taking such liberties with her, and she would as soon as the bones returned to her arms. One arm hung loosely at her side, the other was still in his hand and she noticed that his thumb was tracing small circles on her inner wrist, each circle seemed to spread out over he body, growing bigger and bigger sending waves of need throughout her, until she was weak with desire. She knew its name, knew the danger of such feelings, and for the first time in her life she understood why young lovers took such risks. His lips were moving against hers, it had been decades but they remembered how, she kissed him back. When he used his tongue to urge her to open her mouth she gasped in surprise and want, John had never done this, she quite enjoyed it. She wanted him to keep kissing her like that, lewdly sticking his tongue in her mouth, tasting her own award winning plum puffs. He placed her hand on his chest, right above his heart, and she could feel it beating wildly, she was sure hers was jumping just as quickly, She allowed herself the slightest movement, letting her fingers feel the soft hair there, the skin underneath, the hard pebble of his nipple. At her brush against it, he groaned into her mouth, pulling her close and bringing his free hand up to her neck, his thumb stroking the underside of her jaw. She finally found strength in her other arm and let it come up to rest on his forearm, it felt like a rock it was so hard, she trembled, he was so strong he could do whatever he wanted, and she couldn't stop him, she didn't want to stop him. She wanted him to lay her down, pull up her skirts and take her. 

Her complete surrender is what finally shook her from his spell, she pulled back, he let her go immediately, she stared at him, her hand coming to her mouth, her lips still wet from his kisses. "Mes excuses...so sorry Marilla...Miss Cuthbert." He said, as if he too were suddenly aware of how dangerously they had been behaving. He looked at the wagon and grabbed his shirt where it was hanging and put his arms inside, fumbling to button it up. She noted his hands were shaking, and she was glad she wasn't the only one of them struggling with the feelings.

"I accept your apology and remind you that it should not be repeated. I am a woman of good moral standing in this community and I will not have that tarnished." She said firmly, running her hands over her clothes to make sure they were in order and then nodded at him and walked away, back to Green Gables.

That night, and for the next several, she had trouble sleeping, not just because her body was tense and alert, desiring for something it knew nothing about. She was up every night because she was angry again. She was angry that she had denied herself the chance to know what it would feel like, just once. She had no fear of getting with child, that possibility had long since passed, her only fear was of being caught. Her desire to experience it was stronger than her fear of discovery.

Harvest ended, Jerry and Gideon were paid, Marilla also gifted them each with warm sweaters she had knitted, for the coming winter. Jerry would come twice a week to help Matthew with some chores, and Gideon had agreed to return in the spring for planting, if he hadn't found a different job by then. That last night of harvest Matthew and Marilla invited them inside to share dinner with them, it wasn't anything fancy, some ham and vegetables, but they ate it heartily and said yes to the offers of seconds. For dessert she served a warm berry pie, made fresh that afternoon, a dollop of cream melting on top of each slice. She tried to make pleasant conversation with the three males, but found herself distracted by Gideon, every movement of his hands, shoulders, face and lips, she couldn't stop staring at him. When he licked the corner of his mouth for bit of cream left behind, she clenched her legs together and nearly cried at the feeling of relief she got, even if it were just for a moment. 

She was at the sink, washing up the dishes, Matthew telling Jerry about the trip to Charlottetown he was taking the next day and inviting Jerry to come along if he wanted to, Gideon came up beside her, placing his plate and fork in the wash basin.  
She expected a thank you for the meal or the sweater, she didn't expect him to reach out and stroke the skin of her arm, revealed by her rolled up sleeves. She looked over her shoulder and saw that Matthew had led Jerry over to the portraits on the wall to tell him about the family members in each one.

"You are not going to Charlottetown?" He asked softly. Picking up the towel and beginning to dry the dishes.

"No, I will be remaining here at Green Gables." She informed him. She saw him nod out of the corner of her eye. 

"If I use the woods and no one sees me...I come to visit you?"

She would tell him no. This would be the end of it. He would go back to his side of town and she wouldn't see him for six months. All these confusing feelings would be gone by then, he would probably have joined a fishing trawler or found a wife by then. "I'll leave a towel hanging on the railing if it is safe to come inside." She whispered, her heart racing, what if they were seen or caught?

"I'll be careful." He promised.

"You sure you're alright?" Matthew asked her again after she knocked over the sugar, she had already spilled the tea and dropped her spoon on the floor.

"I am perfectly fine Matthew, now you hurry up if you want to get to Charlottetown and back before dark." She shooed him along. 

"Do you want me to stop and ask Rachel to look in on you?"

"No!" She replied sharper than she should have. "I would just love a nice quiet day, without Rachel in here clucking like one of the chickens. I have to drop some bread and preserves off at the Minister's house, his wife fell and broke her wrist, she can't do anything cooking or baking."

"Alright, I'll see you tonight."

"Be safe Matthew."

As soon as he left she raced inside, finished clearing up the mess, remembered to hang the towel on the railing and finally looked in the mirror, fussing with the strands that had come loose from her bun. Her stomach was dancing and twisting, she smoothed a hand over it, trying to calm down, she walked four steps toward the door, intent on snatching the towel down, but stopping and taking a seat at the table instead. She sat staring at her hands, debating with herself why she should stop it now, before she did anything really sinful. She was weak, she stayed at the table, and when she heard his boots on the porch she looked up and saw him quickly enter the house, sitting opposite her at the table.

"You are afraid." He acknowledged.

"Not of you..."

"You are afraid Avonlea will find out." He stated, he understood. She nodded.

"I would be ruined."

"No one will find out. I hide in closet if talking lady comes." He smiled and she couldn't help smiling too, he had interacted twice with Rachel when she had come to visit during the harvest, and she had indeed talked the entire time.

"Should we go upstairs?" She asked him.

"You also want to go upstairs?" He asked her. She nodded, and he stood and moved toward her, taking her hands in his own. 

"I've never been married." She told him, hoping he would understand she was pure.

"I know." He helped her to her feet, before moving toward the back door and closing it, and then went back to Marilla and led her to the stairs. At the top of the stairs she pointed to her room and he took her there, closing the door behind them. 

"N'ayez pas peur, nous pouvons simplement nous embrasser. We can kiss." He said softly, stroking her cheek. At her nod, he leaned down and claimed her lips. That all too familiar feeling of fire burning through her veins came flooding back. This time she didn't need him to urge her mouth open, she wantonly explored his mouth, feeling a growing sense of urgency at his growl of approval. His hands were on her sides, but she could barely feel him because of her cursed corset. Her own hands were twisted in his hair, it felt thick and soft and he moaned when she scratched her nails over his scalp. 

He untied her apron, lifting it over her neck and dropping it on floor near their feet, before moving his hands to the buttons on her blouse, bringing his lips back to hers, she forgot to be nervous, as his lips worked their magic and made her forget everything but the feeling they elicited. Only when she felt the coolness of the room on her bare shoulders, did she realise he had fully opened her shirt up, and had pushed it down over her shoulders, dragging his lips from hers and kissing the skin of her collarbone. 

"Oh..." Marilla breathed out, these kisses felt completely different but caused the same reaction, hot, wet heat pooling at her very centre. She needed more, she yanked her blouse out of her skirt and took the blouse the rest of the way off, moving her hands to unhook it, drawing in a deep breath as it opened up, leaving her in just her chemise from the waist up. It was her nicest one, she had chosen it, just in case this happened, but it was thin, and she had seen her own nipples showing through when she looked in the mirror, she knew Gideon would be able to see them. 

He removed his own shirt, and she helped him pushing it down over his shoulders, feeling the heat, and the rock hard muscles beneath her fingers as they lightly skimmed over his skin. Were those goosebumps from the cool air in the room, or her touch? When he tried to remove her skirt, he fumbled for a bit and she moved her own hands to undo it and allow it to fall to the floor, he helped her step out of the pile and led her to the bed, kneeling down to unlace her boots and remove them from her feet, her stockings followed immediately after, before he stood up, he placed a kiss on the inside of her knee. He stepped back from her while he removed his own boots, and then undid his belt, and allowed his pants to slide down his own legs. She was alone in her room in just her underwear with a man who was also just wearing his underwear, a man that was not her husband, once she would have been terrified to be in this situation. Now she was eager to have him touch her and remove the rest of her clothing.

He looked at her from head to toe, and then at the bed. "You would like to...sleep?" He shook his head, knowing he had used the wrong word. "Get into the bed?" She nodded and took her usual spot on the bed, laying her head back against the pillows, he went around to the other side and got in the bed beside her, facing her, his head resting on his bent arm and hand. He put his hand on her inner thigh, just gently stroking her leg through her bloomers, before leaning in and kissing her. When he shifted so the upper half of his body was against hers, the weight was unfamiliar but pleasant to her. 

The sun in the sky told her it was past noon, they had spent the morning in her bed, he had made her feel...she didn't even have words it. He had kissed her, tasted her, stroked her and whispered to her in french and english, she smiled at the memory of it all. The act itself had hurt for a moment, but everything leading up to it and after it, had been wonderful. How beautiful it would have been to have experienced that with John, or another man who loved her. 

"I should go back home." He said to her. She nodded, they both got dressed, she fixed her hair in the mirror, he came up behind her and kissed the skin below her ear. "Merci Marilla, J'espère que vous avez apprécié notre matinée. Je m'en souviendrai toujours avec tendresse.."

She didn't know what he was saying but he delivered it with such honesty and tenderness, she knew it must be about what had just happened. "Thank you Gideon, it was wonderful."

"I leave now."

"Let me go out and make sure no one is walking up the path or through the field." She told him. Before she opened the door her took her hands, kissing her knuckles lightly. 

"Au revoir Marilla."

"Au revoir, Gideon." Then he quickly walked to the woods by the barn and melted into the trees.

She saw him a few more times over the years, he came to help with spring planting, and harvest the following year. She saw him with the Baynard family at the annual summer fair, nodding a polite greeting to him as they passed each other.

She thought of him often, but was never tempted to repeat the experience, and once the troublesome redhead from the mainland came to live with them, Marilla rarely had time to think about that beautiful morning.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't have a motivation for Gideon, he wasn't in love, he doesn't call her beautiful or pretty, but he is attracted to her. Maybe he just liked seducing older women, or he saw a lonely soul he wanted to help.
> 
> Qui est là? - Who's there?  
> Je ne peux pas vous remercier assez - I can't thank you enough  
> Suis-je trop en avant? - Am I being too forward?  
> Puis-je vous goûter ensuite? - May I taste you next?  
> Mes excuses - My apologies  
> N'ayez pas peur, nous pouvons simplement nous embrasser. - Do not be afraid, we can just kiss.  
> J'espère que vous avez apprécié notre matinée. Je m'en souviendrai toujours avec tendresse.. - I hope you enjoyed our morning. I will always remember it fondly.


End file.
